Reset
by Superficial Faith
Summary: Barricade experiences a rather hectic Black Friday. Companion to Refresh.


**Disclaimer: Transformers belongs to its respective creator and companies. No copyright infringement is intended.**

He was in half the mind to turn his comm off. The jet just wouldn't stop _whining._ As chief intelligence officer, surely Starscream realized that Barricade had better things to do than listen to his bitching, but one just doesn't cut off his air commander without permission; at least not when he's _that_ high up on the chain of command (but was he really? The so-called second-in-command of the Decepticons certainly didn't quite understand how to keep on Megatron's good side). So here he sat in a parking lot, his holoform flickering to life on the driver's seat as the first of the humans began to trickle into a line in front of the building, listening to a certain F-22 ramble on and on about how _bored_ he was at an empty air base. The jet didn't know the _true_ meaning of bored. Here he was, "on duty" when the solar cycle hadn't even started yet, when he could be getting in some much-needed recharge time.

"Black Friday", as the humans called it, was an affair that Barricade could not see the point of. Provisions were important, to be sure, but couldn't they come up with something more efficient, such as rationing out supplies through designation numbers? It certainly proved successful on Cybertron, and Primus knew resources were horribly scarce _there_.

Instead, the humans found it prudent to use the _wonderfully_ deceptive "bait and switch" approach. Supply (no—the _store_—he corrected himself. If he was to live up to his reputation for intelligence, he must be well-versed in the ways of the humans' inner workings) would advertise some piece of equipment that the humans didn't particularly need at a disgustingly low price to draw them in, and then said equipment would most conveniently disappear when the doors opened, usually through the result of nepotism. However, the outcome never failed to amuse him on these occasions, and Frenzy would be in hysterics—the little fragger—trying to cause more mayhem than the fleshwads were causing themselves.

But Frenzy wasn't here anymore (this fact did not strike cord within him—or maybe it did and he just refused to acknowledge it), so there was less trouble to be sure, but Barricade always was one to just sit back and watch the cards fall into place (he was not Starscream, who tried to change those cards, even after events had already happened—the slagging idiot). With all the damage the humans caused (and probably would cause again, today) each Black Friday, surely they'd drive themselves into extinction, eventually.

And yet, here they were, _completely _unaware of this fact. An old man with a cane hobbled into line (who certainly wasn't going to last long amidst the upcoming chaos), a young woman with brightly painted nails and tight clothing that showed off her assets (did she think it would help her gain some kind of advantage over the others?) chatted on her cell phone, and a mother with her sticky-fingered offspring (damn, did they start the killing instinct in them early) all stood in line, waiting to get their greedy hands on Primus knew what. All just _stood_ there, fidgeting, knowing there were only just a small number of cycles to go.

His holoform kicked his feet up on the steering wheel, making a show of turning on his lights when it really only required a simple line of code, serving as a warning that he was on duty and was not to be taken lightly. Granted, his version of crowd control was _drastically_ different than what the protocol manual called for, but it was just as effective, if not more so. But he had not had had to use his tactics yet, and for this, he was grateful. If there was one thing he and Starscream agreed upon, it was that laying low in the presence of humans was a tried and true strategy that had saved their afts numerous times (why Megatron _insisted_ on retaining his protoform remained a mystery to all on the Nemesis).

He was literally counting down the _seconds_ now until the mayhem—the unsightly, yet highly entertaining slaughter—began. And sure enough, as soon as the clock on his dashboard flashed 6:00, the doors of the store slid open and the humans barreled through, as if their puny little lives depended upon it.

There was shouting and arguing, and the old man's cane bounced off his windshield (though where the old man was, Barricade was no longer sure—probably already trampled to the ground and smushed into a pile of gelatinous goo), and one woman was using her ample bosom as a weapon (Barricade marveled at this tactic—that was certainly a new one).

However, when the humans started clamoring onto his hood, ignoring the "officer" and his flashing light completely, Barricade had decided he had had enough. He didn't quite understand why this "Wal-Mart" was bigger to-do than any of the other stores were, but as much fun as the humans were to watch, when his chrome got involved, the mass-murder _had_ to end.

With a churning of gears, Barricade stood, shaking the humans off him—flinging them in five different directions—and barked, "All right, all you worthless fleshings either get into line in a neat and orderly fashion or I'll do it for you!" He flexed a claw menacingly.

All the commotion came to dead halt and hundreds upon hundreds of eyes looked up at him, wide and fearful. Good. _This_ he could deal with. Hundreds of squirming bodies he could not.

"Well?" He put his hands on his hips, tapping his fingers in an impatient rhythm when nobody moved. "Hop to it!"

The humans scrambled to get into a line that was razor straight, and the store's greeter looked more grateful than scared. _There._ That was better.

He eased back into his alt-mode and his holoform cracked his knuckles before resuming his reclining position once more. Everything was organized, and he could do organized. After all, what was the best way to reset the minds of the humans than scaring everyone into oblivion?

**Author's Note: You know the drill, people. Companion fic to "Refresh", also written for the revive_the_muse challenge on LJ, but specifically for Antepathy, who mentioned she enjoyed the thought of Barricade enjoying Black Friday mayhem. This one's for you. As always, constructive criticism is very much appreciated.**


End file.
